


When Gravity Pulls You In

by Child of War and Peace (BisexualNerd)



Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Idk I have no plan in hands, Magic, Memory Alteration, reality distortion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28444059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BisexualNerd/pseuds/Child%20of%20War%20and%20Peace
Summary: A little happy incident in a museum in Italy left the reality messed up. The lives of many people have been turned upside down, especially those involved directly with the incident.Someone will have to fix this and who can do it better than those who caused it in the first place? Except they don't even know each other and everything is fucked.
Relationships: Dylan Alvarez | Funny Man & Jordon Terrell | Charlie Scene, Dylan Alvarez | Funny Man & Matt Busek | Da Kurlzz, Everyone & Everyone, Jorel Decker | J-Dog & Daniel Murillo | Danny, Probably the guys/their wives or ex-wife
Comments: 34
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. This is my first non-Batfam related fic so be nice to me.  
> I also don't know what I am doing and have a bad case of ADHD so I literally have almost no plan or whatsoever.
> 
> But I've never failed to finish a series or a multichapter fic, and a pretty quick writer (and my uni's gonna give the students a long break soon. right after the semester exams). Please have faith in me.
> 
> Don't be hesitant to suggest new ideas or tell me about errors and shit. My first language isn't English, it's Vietnamese (xin chào, mình đi đâu cũng khoe điều này vì mình rất tự hào về tiếng Anh của mình :D). 
> 
> I'll update the tags as I go since Idk what to tag.
> 
> Enjoy the fic!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordon goes and buys something he has only seen once before. He knows it's important but he can't explain why.  
> Jorel though it was going to be a normal day like usual, but he ends up seeing a strange masked guy outside the building he lives in.  
> And this strange masked guy just thinks that everything is so weird and that he is done with this bullshit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter. Considering this a test run so it's a bit shorter than what I normally write.  
> Have fun reading!

Jordon opens the door to the run-down, old shop and glances at the wind chimes dangling above his head. This place feels weirdly familiar but he is sure he had never been here before. Or maybe he has been to another place that is similar to this?

Whatever. He’s here for one thing only. Once he finds it, he’ll leave this shop right away.

Jordon walks between shelves and shelves, eyes searching for the “thing”. It has to be here. He has searched everywhere and contacted all of his sources for it.

Some flashy weird-looking masks catch his eyes but he brushes them off. They might seem cool as shit to him, but he’s not here for them. He’s not even sure he has enough money to buy them from this shop.

_Where is it…?_

Oh ho, yes! There it is. A dusty piece of fabric hanging on a clothes hanger. There is also a red mask-thingy on the shelf nearest to it, but the piece of fabric is the only thing that matters right now.

Jordon quickly makes his way over and pulls it down from the hanger.

The thing is square, and it’s covered in a thick layer of dust. He can’t really make out the words on it, but in the dim light of the shop, he can see the black and white bits scattering around on the fabric. He knows one word on it though. **Charlie.** He’s been relying on one word solely to find it.

The fabric feels so soft in his hands, despite the dust. Must be of really high quality then.

He can wash it later. For now, he needs to get out of here. Jordon tries to brush off as much dust as he can, almost sneezes his nose off from all the dust, then walks back to the front of the shop.

The lady charges him three dollars for it. He tries to bargain but she wouldn’t have it. Alright then, there goes his three dollars. Jordon says goodbye to her and exits the shop.

He walks fast, away from the shop as the light-up sign flickers under a tree branch. **“Shop of the Forgotten”** it reads, before disappearing behind him into the darkness of an autumn night.

* * *

The dust doesn’t come off very easily. It takes him 4 washes to clean the bandana. The man holds it up and reads the words on it.

“HU”, “Charlie Scene”, and a styled “LA” looking like a gun and shit. Some skyline of a city and some other stuff on the white background of the bandana too.

 _Alright, cool._ He thought. Charlie Scene reminds him of Charlie Sheen, one of his favourite actors but other than that, it means nothing.

_Or does it…?_

Jordon shrugs and hangs the bandana up to dry. He doesn’t know why he bought it or tried to find it. It doesn’t mean anything to him, has never been a part of his life until now and surely contributes nothing to it. He just knows that he saw it once.

It was two months ago when he was drinking in a shitty bar. It was in LA, obviously, and he wasn’t even tipsy when he saw it. A man with curly hair was there in a corner of the bar, staring at him. Half of his face was hidden behind the bandana and the light of the bar was not making it easy to make out the words.

He manages to read **“Charlie”** though. And when he decided to get up to ask about the bandana, not sure why, a man blocked his path and once Jordon got that man out of the way, the man with the curly hair was gone without a trace.

He’s been looking left and right for the bandana and the man since then.

The man has been a lost cause since he couldn’t see his face. The hair didn’t help much either. So many people with poofy curly hair!

But the bandana. Not many of them are styled like this. Most bandana would have some generic patterns on them. This one is like those designer made and shit. Probably originally used to cost as much as his rent. Like come on, look at this shit!

He heats up some leftovers in his fridge and turns on the TV. Whatever on the screen is lost on him since he can’t keep his mind off the bandana, in spite of the fact that he has it with him now. However, before he even knows it, his mind drifts to the masks in the shop.

Whose were those masks? And why are they there? They looked pretty well-made and expensive to him. He feels like he should have known the masks, now that he’s thinking about them. But despite all of his effort going into searching through his memories, nothing comes up. Only a sense of familiarity.

Jordon falls asleep on his couch, with the TV still on and the plate of cold leftover on the coffee table in front of him. A breeze of wind blows by, slapping gently at the bandana and whispering sweet nonsense at the sky.

* * *

Jorel closes the door of the parlour. The tattoo parlour. He’s not the one who tattoos people, no, that would be disastrous. But he offered to help around and they agreed.

It’s a part-time job though. He has another job at the animal shelter. Both offer little money, but he manages. At least he hasn’t switched to another job in 4 months now. So far so good.

It’s a quiet night, and not too dark, he supposes. The light of the city is enough for him to see the way back to his small apartment. He usually takes a less busy path to get home, passing a park where he can see people jogging by or going on their dates. It’s still not deserted to the point there will be a chance of being mugged, but not so loud and crowded that drains all of his leftover positivity. Considering not much, but still.

He twists the key inside the lock and it clicks. Good. He has to struggle with opening the door though.

_This place is such a shithole…_

Finally, he’s got the door to open and slips in. He kicks his shoes off and makes his way into the kitchen. A small cat is sleeping on his couch.

 _His_ cat is sleeping on his couch.

Jorel checks the food bowl. Empty. Of course. The cat eats like, the same amount he eats. He has thought about dropping the cat at the shelter where he works, but the damn thing is just so clingy that he has to let him stay.

He ate dinner with the two tattoo artists already so it’s just the cat, then. Jorel pokes his stomach. Solid. Meaning the cat has just eaten, too. Alright then.

“Ghost.” The cat stays still. Jorel shakes his head amusingly and enters the bathroom for a quick shower. He finishes dressing in some boxers and goes to the window to close the curtains.

A flash of light from outside the window blinds him for a short second. He peers outside, looking for the source of the light.

It’s pretty dark around his building, but he can easily make out a figure standing on the pavement on the other side of the road. They (he can’t really tell if it’s a male or a female, but probable a male considering the lack of boobs) has this really big hair that seems to be defying gravity. And just as Jorel realizes that he’s staring, the figure looks up to show his face.

Or rather, his masked face.

A shiny, red and white, probably metal mask is obscuring his face. There are two dark holes where his eyes are supposed to be as well. Other than that, the (probable) man is wearing a big, long, black coat on the outside and that’s it. Jorel can’t find anything else that might help him identify the man.

A truck runs past on the road and when it’s gone from his vision, the man is nowhere to be seen too.

Jorel waits five more minutes before closing the curtains and slipping into his blanket. Ghost jumps up onto the bed with him and snuggles against his chest. He pets the cat gently as his mind drifts away from consciousness.

* * *

The man with the curly appears again outside the building. The light from that one apartment is out now but he doesn’t want to leave yet.

He visited the shop the other day just to see if the bandana is gone, and to grab the red mask along the way. The bandana has been bought. surprisingly. He hasn’t expected it to be gone so quickly. He wore it once two months ago, and the dust has been so terrible that he had to wash it.

It just seems like the objects in the shop got dirty and old faster than they are outside the shop. The cashier said the bandana was covered in webs and dust when the man was paying for it. Not many people come to the shop, so it’s no surprise she remembered.

The man takes off the mask and sneezes. It’s still not fully clean of dust. He swears he has wiped this thing like, hundreds of times.

It’s alright though. As long as things will be back to normal. Or as normal as that person said. He doesn’t even know who these people are. Or why everything is not normal. But he has been chosen to do some shit, apparently, with some help of _magic_.

_This is so fucking weird._

The man with the curly hair heads back to the shop to return the mask. He gets his ID back after that, then goes home. The coat is folded nicely and hidden away in a corner.

Before falling asleep, his mind flashes back to the mask in the glass box. All the other masks are on the shelves, except this one. It’s, how does he say this, half and half? Half grey and half white. He has been told not to touch it, or even just the box, but it’s so tempting to do so.

His dream is strange, like it has usually been these past 2 months. Full of flashing lights and men in masks. Smoke and crowds of people. But something is missing. Something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are highly appreciated and will help me write the next one (they are motivation, dude).  
> Thanks so much for reading and Happy New Year to you all ❤❤❤


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We can now know more about the man with the big, curly hair in this one. 
> 
> At the same time, Jorel meets a man whose dog is missing at the shelter, and that man later will see something strange happening. Well, not all too strange but strange enough to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I went back to the first chapter and realized I was stupid. I wanted to use the masks in the HOAC music video and Matt's last mask but I accidentally used Charlie's V bandana instead of this Tragedy's one. Fixed that part a bit, fixed Jorel's part at the end a bit too. 
> 
> My speaking exam got postponed so I'm kinda using this time to finish another chapter. Not many new characters/band members here but I think it's still interesting enough. 
> 
> Also, thanks to @atomictravelbag/Atominthewind for helping me realize that I've been spelling Danny's last name wrong for the last half a year. Blame that on being a non-native English speaker and dyslexia. My laptop still wants to correct his last name into Scurrilousness after that but at least I know my mistake now, heh. Anyway, my dumb mistake is wildly seen by HU fans on Tumblr now, and RIP to Danny's last name.
> 
> Have fun reading!

_His phone buzzes. The screen lights up with a new message._

_“Speed up the progress. Something is wrong.”_

_The man with a head full of curly hair wakes up to the message and about a dozen other useless notifications later. He holds the phone in his hands and zones out for at least 5 minutes._

They want to speed it up? But why?

 _He has just shown up like_ that _twice with a mask and the bandana. They had said, last time he saw them, 2 months wait before another mask and another person. But whatever, the less time he has to wait, the quicker he finishes with this bullshit. He texts back._

_“How long do I have to wait now?”_

_He only has to wait a few seconds._

_“2 weeks. Next mask is the golden one.”_

_Huh? The golden one with the bullets? He likes that one. It kinda gives him a sense of familiarity. A stronger sense than the other ones have given him. He can never figure out why that is, but to think about it again, he’s only doing this because he has to. He shouldn't be worrying about why this and why that._

_Another text pops up on the screen._

_“Hey Matty, wanna hang out with us?”_

_“Tonight?” He replies._

_“Ye. 8 pm at my house.”_

_“Sure.” Some normal would do him good._

_Matt leaves the bedroom after picking out some clothes and goes for a shower. He has two weeks to find the one that should have that golden mask. His picture and info should be sent to him soon._

* * *

Jorel wakes up right after the mask from a few days ago flashing in a veil of smoke in his dream. He thinks he’s gone insane. He has only seen that goddamn mask once, and now it’s invading his dreams relentlessly.

He stands up, feeling Ghost nuzzling his leg. The cat is quiet for a rare day. Jorel leaves the refilled cat bowl by the kitchen counter and goes for a quick morning wash. He has to go to the shelter today.

The shelter is never crowded, which has been a blessing for him. He starts his normal routine by feeding the rescued animals and cleaning up their cages. They have got a few new rescued animals lately, mostly dogs with two or three cats.

It’s been so tempting to take home all of them, especially the cats, but he knows he can’t afford to keep more than one, much less the whole shelter. Jorel sighs, petting a small kitten on its head. Also, he hopes Ghost hasn’t destroyed his apartment yet. Everyday he goes to work and then worries about his damn place being destroyed by his damn, hyperactive cat.

11:14 am, the door opens followed by the sound of the bell ringing. Jorel ignores whoever walks in, the receptionist will deal with them. He just needs the fucking cat to eat and to stop hissing at him.

The poor thing hasn’t eaten anything in days and anyone who has tried to get close to it all got their hands scratched up and looking like a literal murder scene.

“...my dog has been missing…” He can hear bits and bits of the conversation though. Despite not wanting to deal with people, he still hopes the man can find his dog here. That voice definitely belongs to a male.

“...some have been rescued from the streets…”

“...for a week now… the fifth shelter I’ve gone to…”

“...this way…the newly rescued are here…”

They walk past him just as the cat successfully in leaving a long, bloody scratch on the back of his left hand.

“Ahhh fuck this!” He closes the door of the cat’s cage and steps back.

“Hey, you’re okay?” Great, now the dude is talking to him.

“I’m fine, just a scratch.” He waves the blond man off but Gloria - the receptionist wouldn’t have it.

“Go disinfect the scratch Jay. I don’t want you to get sick for it.”

Well, considering it’s a rescued cat, there’s a high chance it’s got some dirt on its claws. Fine, then. He looks for the first aid kit and starts cleaning up the scratch while Gloria helps the man look for his dog.

“Yeah, a bulldog. His name is Louie.” Hmm, bulldog huh? He thinks he saw at least two of them earlier this week.

The man finds his dog, fortunately. It doesn’t take very long and by that time, Jorel has already finished cleaning the scratch.

“Thank you so, so much Gloria.”

“No problem, Mr. Murillo. Glad I can help.”

Hearing the name is like being struck in the head. Jorel turns to look at the man, who is now holding the dog in his arms. He’s sure he has never seen that man before, but why does he feel like he should know that name?

As the man leaves, Jorel asks the receptionist.

“Who was that?”

“A man who lost his dog.” She says with a “duh” expression.

“No. Like, what’s his name?”

“Daniel. Daniel Murillo. Is something wrong?”

“Nah, I thought I knew him.” He mumbles a reply back, feeling unsure with his own answer.

Gloria ignores him and returns to her desk. Jorel bandages the scratch up and goes back to find the hissy cat. It will eat its food and then he will eat his lunch too. Enough strange shit happening this week already.

* * *

The mask stays forgotten until late that night, again. He knows this is just a dream. He has only seen that mask once in real life, but several times in the fucking dream-scape.

The red mask is propped up on a table, against a wall. Everything is dark except for some light coming in from the window nearby. He’s standing on the other side of the room and he can notice some weird lumps on the table. He thinks he should get closer. After all, standing still wouldn’t do anything.

Jorel makes his way across the room, careful not to touch anything. The lumps on the table turn out to be various other masks, all looking different from each other. Most of them are white with some red things around the holes for the eyes. One looks like a poison gas mask. Two look identical to the red mask, just with different colours. It’s still too dark for him to make out exactly those patterns on the other mask.

The room spins out of sudden and all the masks, except for the red one, scattered around on the floor. The red one is still in its place, surprisingly.

“Find it.” A low, growling voice rings out.

And he wakes up to the deafening silence of his own, non-spinning bedroom.

Jorel’s got a feeling that those dreams and nightmares won’t let him be until he finds it. He has to look for that mask.

* * *

Danny opens the car door for Louie to jump out. He’s just really relieved that he has found his dog. When Louie chased after that alley cat and disappeared before he could even comprehend what was going on, he had thought he would never find him again.

_Thank fuck for that shelter._

The man gets inside the house and gives Louie something to eat. The shelter hasn’t let his dog go hungry but surely the food at home is better. And the dog definitely needs a bath later.

Danny cleans up the music sheets on the coffee table in his living room and sets the guitar back on its place on the wall. The house is not big by any means so he has to use every piece of space wisely.

Observing the dog chowing down on the food, he suddenly remembers the man at the shelter. He had reacted weirdly when Gloria said Danny's last name, and he looked somewhat familiar too. Like one of those strangers who leave a big impression on you but you can’t really recall where you have seen them. Just, it doesn’t feel like that situation to him.

He is pretty sure they have never met before. He’s good with faces and names, he would remember if they have.

Gloria has called him “Jay”. Is it a nickname or not, he doesn’t know. But that man didn’t look like a Jay. Maybe it ****is**** a nickname.

Danny groans and leans back on the sofa, mind racing to try to find any bit of memory that might involve that man. It’s like that frustration when a word is on the tip of your tongue but you just can’t blurt it out.

He has promised Gloria a donation to the shelter though. Maybe he can dig out a bit of information on this Jay, who knows? They might have met when they were kids, which is definitely harder to recall. Danny stands up and goes to the kitchen. Lunchtime.

There’s some leftover from yesterday’s dinner. He can warm it up and make some vegetables to eat with it. Then he can continue to work on that new song. Maybe now that he’s found Louie, he can find some motivation to write it.

Writing and producing music for bands are not bad. It’s a decent job. He still prefers to have his own band that he writes music directly for, however. After Lorene Drive broke up, he hasn’t been able to form or join another band. So writing and producing music are the second-best things, he supposed.

He misses performing and recording. Now if only he could have his own fucking band. Something always happens and every band he has in mind will just cease to exist.

A breeze blows through the open window into the room, sending a few sheets of paper flying. They are all discarded song ideas and half-written lyrics that Danny still doesn’t have the heart to throw away. On a wrinkled page, the words can be seen clearly, even though they have been crossed out.

**~~**“Deep in the black, I can't find my way home**~~**

**~~**P** ~~ ** **~~**lease take me back to the place I belong”** ~~ **

* * *

****

He has donated some money and food to the shelter as a way of thanking them for his dog. He has wanted to maybe adopt another dog, or maybe a cat, but he can’t really afford more pets in the house. His job is not the reason why, since it’s pretty good money if he manages to stay with more than one band at once. The problem is that he’s living alone and pets are like kids, just a bit easier. They demand attention. A lot of it too.

He watches the animals in cages in silence. At least he can help out a bit. Gloria is off work today and a young man named Luke replaces her as the receptionist. The man he saw the day he got Louie back, which was like ten days ago, is here too and he is currently cleaning some dogs’ cages.

Danny taps Luke’s shoulder.

“You know who that is?”

“Uh, that’s Jorel. He works part-time here.”

“Jorel?” The name doesn’t bring back any old memory at all. Odd, because it really doesn’t sound foreign to him, considering it’s an unusual name.

“Jorel Decker, yeah. You know him?”

“I don’t,” Danny answers honestly. “Feel like I should though.” He mutters the last part.

“No one knows much about him, to be honest. He doesn’t talk to us much. But he loves the animals. I think he’s vegan too. Never seen him eat meat, ever.”

Danny sighs and frowns. This is frustrating. Maybe he has never known of this man for real, and his head is just messing with him. He says goodbye to Luke and calls for Louie. They should be going home now, it’s pretty late in the afternoon. Maybe he can pick up some groceries along the way.

It’s over half-past six when he finishes finding all the stuff he needs in the grocery store. As he waits for all of them to be scanned, something outside the window catches his eyes.

Under the streetlamp light on the other side of the road is a person in a big coat with wild frizzy hair. They is looking down at their shoes. But as Danny starts to stare, the person’s head snaps up and Danny can see the person’s face. Masked face.

It looks like metal, the mask. It’s a bit too far for him to see it clearly but the left eye hole of the mask has something on it, and it has some kind of golden-bronze metal colour.

Dark, empty eyeholes stare back at him as if they were hypnotizing him. Danny can take his eyes off the person, especially the mask. There has to be a reason why they is staring at him like that, unmovingly and intensely. Maybe he should try to approach them. There are many houses and stores nearby, he probably won’t get murdered.

“These would be 136 dollars.” The cashier’s voice yanks him back to reality.

Danny quickly takes out his card to give it to her. He’s impatient to go out and confront the person. He picks up the bag and receives his card back before running outside the store. The person is gone already, and it hasn’t even been three minutes. Louie barks loudly from inside the car, where he has left a window partially open so the dog can breathe freely.

Danny looks left and right, trying to find the masked person, but no one in sight is dressing like them or has hair that frizzy. He lets out a groan and opens the car door to put his groceries in.

_How the fuck…?_

Maybe it’s been a joke, or a prank they play on strangers, He doesn’t know. He just wants to find out why that goddamn mask has managed to capture his attention like that. Like his mind has been set to focus on it only. He wants to know who that was. He wants to know about that fucking mask. He needs to.

* * *

Jorel meets some of his old friends at a small bar. They haven’t met for a while and since they are in town, they want to hang out. Just some old friends from one of the gangs he was in when he was a teen.

He doesn’t know why he’s telling them about the mask and the man he saw the other day. But one of them perks up when he hears the story.

“I know this chick, she told me there was this one dude, who was looking for some cloth thingy. She said that the place which had the cloth, was full of masks and shit. I don’t know where it is but I can ask for you.”

Jorel feels a small, flicker flame of hope in his chest. He can finally end the nightmares and everything will be back to normal. His friend shows the text of the address to him and Jorel quickly writes it down on the note of his phone.

He visits the shop the day after, when he's finally done with his afternoon shift at the tattoo parlour. Now he’s taking a bus to the stop nearest to the shop, which is unreachable by bus. The path leading to it is just soil and rocks. It doesn’t bother him though. The girl who’s friend with his buddy said they usually open at night, which is strange but fine with him. He’s too busy during the day.

 ** **“Shop of the Forgotten”**** the flickering sign reads. It looks a bit too shady but Jorel was in several gangs, this is nothing to him.

The air is dead silent except for the sound of the wind teasing the branches of the trees and chasing after bugs of the night. He can hear a faint clicking sound too. Maybe wind chimes? Shops like this have a lot of wind chimes.

He pushes the door open, says a soft hello to the girl who sits by the desk, and starts walking between shelves and shelves. The mask had better be around here somewhere. He seriously doesn’t need more nightmares. They suck ass.

He finds it a moment later, leaning against the wooden material of a shelf, with several more masks nearby. He recognizes none of them though. No mask in his nightmares looks remotely anything like these. He picks it up and blows the dust away.

It looks red overall, with some white around the eye holes. Bleeding white on red. Nice. Pretty edgy too.

He likes it.

Jorel goes back to the front after taking a last look at the other masks. There are two of them left on the shelf, and one in a glass case. They all look pretty cool but these aren’t going to help with his nightmares problem so he can’t waste money on them. The girl asks for five dollars for the mask.

Jorel pays her and leaves quietly.

* * *

Not long after Jorel has left, the man with the curly hair turns up to the shop. He returns the golden mask and notices the red one missing, a spot on the shelf is clear of dust. It’s gone even quicker than the bandana.

He receives his ID at the desk from the girl.

“Was someone here lately?”

“Hmm?” She looks up from her phone. “Oh, there was a man tonight. Just left like, ten minutes ago.”

“Did he buy anything?”

“The red mask. Five dollars.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dahlia.”

He takes a cab back to his house. This is exhausting. At least those people who ask him to do this shit provide him with some money. Otherwise, all these trips back and forth would cost him half of his food budget. Matt turns his attention to the sky outside and gazes at the stars.

It’s dark around this part of California and he’s able to see a bit of the stars. A white dot blinks out of the dark eternal space above and he almost jerks his head back in surprise. Another disappears not long after that.

This must be what the people who told him to do this shit were talking about. Something has gone wrong and those men who should own those masks have to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how was it? I hope it's good. It's kinda hard to think of a job for each of ther guys so if you have any suggestion, give it to me. I've only got J and Danny figured out with the whole jobs thing so there are still four of them to go (I'm counting Kurlzz and Charlie in, never said anything specifically on what they do).  
> Also, kudos and especially comments are appreciated. Thanks for reading ❤❤❤


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CLOSE ENCOUNTER! CLOSE ENCOUNTER!  
> A new face in this fic, someone is losing his mind and a new (but not really) friendship has been formed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got some free time so this one is done early. But I will be pretty busy from next week until early February due to all the university exams and studying French. I will, however, most likely be free during February 'cause I don't have school, which is the result of having Lunar New Year as my official New Year holiday. I will try to write frequently but my schedule is pretty unpredictable right now so please be patient with me.  
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

Dylan falls back on the couch in the living room. He deserves some fucking rest after a whole day of shooting. They have asked if he wanted to join them at the bar but he’s dead tired today and just wants to sleep. Not that the invitation wasn’t tempting.

But nah, some decent food, some rest and some peace would be better, for once. His dog jumps on the couch to sit next to him, looking up as if expecting something.

Of course, he’s expecting something. They always expect something.

Dylan pets the dog’s head and struggles to stand up. He should get his dog some food to eat, and maybe he grabs a snack for himself too if he still has any in there.

An hour later and he’s so ready to die. His body aches with every movement and whoever is throwing a party on the upper floor is way too loud. Well, it’s not that loud but he’s exhausted and just wants to sleep until next week.

But no. He has to wake up at six tomorrow to go to set and to deal with a very easily-pissed-off director. Definitely not what he had in mind when he signed up for this show.

_It could be worse. You could be on the street right now, like how you imagined your life would be when you were 16._

The only motivation to keep him working for this fucking show every day. King Kong climbs on the bed to snuggle against his legs and lets out a wide yawn. Being a dog must be fun. No responsibility and food delivered straight to your mouth each meal. He can live like that.

The next morning comes way too soon and he has to drag himself out of bed again. His routine is still the same. Shower, car, coffee and breakfast, stuck in traffic for almost half an hour, then set. They are going to be late today, as there are a few scenes that have to be shot in the evening.

“Dylan, make up.” The makeup lady, or Rose, pulls him to a corner and starts with her stuff. “Ahh shoot, today you have to wear more makeup than usual Dyl. After the lunch break, come back here so I can put some fake blood on. And don’t smoke on set, I heard someone was complaining about it the other day.”

“Fine fine, I’ll try not to.” He gives her a cheeky grin.

“Dumbass. Now sit still or you will look orange on camera.” That’s a threat, not a way of prevention, really.

Hours later, late in the evening, they get to the last scene of the day. He’s supposed to be hiding behind a bush so he can jump out later to grab the younger man. Not a big deal, except for a wandering mosquito that doesn’t seem to understand the effect of bug spray.

The sticky fake blood on his chin starts to itch. He doesn’t dare scratch at it. He does not want to go back to make up for the last scene of the day. The two actors on the front are saying their lines and at that exact moment, the power when out with a soft buzz of electricity.

“Fuck!” Dylan exclaims as he gets out from behind the bush. Everyone is shouting and some have already got their phones out for some light. He stumbles to a side and watches the others trying to get the power back up.

After a long ten minutes, the director finally gives up and sends everyone home. Dylan lets out a sigh of relief. He can wash the fake blood away at home later and the biggest problem will just be people staring at him and thinking of calling the cops on him.

Like, what’s new?

Turns out, it’s blackout for the whole street, not just the set. He gets back to the front of the building and searches for his car with only the help from his phone’s light.

_Where the fuck is my car?_

Someone crashes into him from the side and Dylan raised the phone to see who it is. But instead of a human face like he was expecting, there is a hockey mask glinting from the flashlight that gets him frozen in his spot.

It looks like metal, all black except for three small dots. He can’t really tell what colour they are though. Other than that, the person who wears the mask has really big hair, all curly and fuzzy.

Dylan thinks they might be staring at each other for a whole minute before he hears a honk coming from behind him and has to jump out of the way to avoid the car. Right, he’s been in the middle of the building’s driveway when that masked person crashed into him.

_Wait…_

That person is nowhere to be seen. It was only a second before that they has been in front of Dylan, and now they just “poof” and disappears. He spins around and shines his phone’s light on every corner to find them.

“What the hell?” He voices his thought out loud.

His heartbeats slow down from the little jump scare that person has given him. Should he go home or should he keep looking for them? Maybe he should go home, just in case that person turns out to be a serial killer in hiding. Like come on, have you seen that mask? It looks straight out of some Jason Voorhees movie!

He breathes out of his mouth in frustration. Find the car, then go home. No more weird bullshit, nope. A simple guy, enjoying his simple night when he doesn’t have to work anymore.

But as he takes the first step, a sharp pain strikes him in the head and he falls to the ground with only his arms supporting him from under.

“FIND IT!” A voice booms and Dylan winces at the volume of it. “FIND THE MASK!”

He thinks he blacks out a little because when he comes to, someone is shaking his shoulder with a strong force and he has been holding his head while curling into himself on the ground.

“Mr Alvarez, sir, are you okay?” He feels sorry for the girl for panicking like that. But he thinks he should feel sorry for himself more since he still has a huge headache messing with him. The fucking light is on, finally, and he feels like he has been blinded.

“Yeah, yeah it’s good. I’m super, don’t worry.” Now that he can see her face almost clearly, he recognizes her as the new girl, about 18, 19 something, who has only been working for a few weeks. Her name is Amy or Emily or something. He doesn’t work with her much.

“You were on the ground and you were shaking really bad. I thought you had a seizure!” Damn it, he just wants to go home, he can’t deal with a panicking teen.

“It’s all okay, ey? Do you need a lift home? It’s not safe to walking around by yourself at night like this.” It will take him a moment to be sure that he can drive after that, whatever it was, but it’s better than letting the girl go home on her own after a blackout.

She presses her lips together as if thinking about should she steal his keys and drive him to the hospital so they can check on him. Or, should she go with him, that works too. People can never be too cautious nowadays. But hey, he has never done anything that bad okay? Weed is a _really_ harmless thing.

“Alright. But like, do you think you can drive now?” There’s the question. He can’t even find his car, does she think he can drive now?

“Well, I have to find my damn car first.”

“I can help.”

They find his car three minutes later, parked right near the entrance of the building. Amily (hey, he doesn’t remember her name, okay?) glares at him and takes his key while he’s trying to open his car door. The headache has only eased a little and the world is still spinning around him.

“I’ll drive. When we get to my house, you can drive from there.” Fair enough, he wouldn’t trust him either, much less her, who was literally panicking from seeing him like that.

He’s finally home after an hour of driving through LA. Dylan yawns tiredly as he makes his way into his apartment while being friendly attacked by his dog. Ahhh, so good to be home at last.

The headache hasn’t got much better since then. He pops an aspirin into his mouth and downs it with some water. He has already eaten on set so now he can just sleep the headache away. Lovely.

However, it’s been half an hour of lying and tossing around on the bed, and he still can’t shut his eyes. Images of the masked person are still vivid in front of his eyes, and the voice has given him so much confusion. What did it mean by “find the mask”? Why the fuck should he find the mask?

It just doesn’t make sense. Sure, it was tempting to know who had been under the mask and why they had worn it, but he doesn’t think that mask has anything to do with him.

A strange feeling is nagging him in the back of his mind. Maybe he should find it, maybe he has been acting in sci-fi shows for so long that he has gone insane. Dylan growls and flings his arms to both sides, almost waking King Kong up.

He’ll deal with it in the morning. Now only sleeps matters to him, as it should.

(Spoiler alert: Dylan goes down with a fever the next morning and can’t come to the set.)

* * *

Danny is losing his goddamn mind. He’s sure he’s crazy now.

Since he saw that mask the other day, he hasn’t been able to keep it out of his head. It’s like it has taken almost all of his attention and care for other things and is now keeping them to itself.

****He needs to find that mask.** **

He has searched through several websites that have the word “mask” somewhere in them. He has asked so many people if they know a place that sells masks and he has visited them all. And yet, he still hasn’t found it.

He doesn’t even know every detail of the mask but he had been drawn to it like he was being under a spell. The only two things he knows of the mask are that it’s of a golden/bronze colour and there’s something on the left eye hole that might have resembled a cross.

He wasn’t sure about it at first but as his mind kept flashing back to the image of that person standing on the other side of the road, he started to pay a bit more attention to that little detail. He might not have yet figured out what had made up the cross, but at least he has something other than the almost-correct colour of the mask.

Danny throws the balled up paper into the trash can. He can’t focus on the fucking music right now but that goddamn band keeps asking for some touch-up on their new song since they weren’t satisfied with their chorus.

He flops his legs on the couch and lies on his back. He’ll continue with that chorus tomorrow. That band can wait a few days for the best possible touch-up he can offer. Rushing it wouldn’t do any good for both him and the song.

Louie barks loudly from under the coffee table. Right, he has made a plan to visit the shelter again. Danny pushes himself up and checks his phone. It is only 9 in the morning but he figures he should leave now. Who knows it might help he get his mind off the mask?

There are more people at the shelter today. He sees Gloria again and she has explained that there are some newly rescued animals so they called in a few more people.

“Can I do anything to help?” He offers.

“Just, go and pet them. They have been through a few things on the street, some comfort would be nice. But be careful or they’ll bite you.”

Most of the dogs and cats don’t even look vicious. They merely seem to be sad and tired, which is a bit unexpected. But he’s not complaining.

His phone rings when he’s in the middle of petting a small golden retriever so he quickly makes his way to the back of the shelter where is mostly used as the place to keep and clean stuff.

“Hey, man.” It’s a bit strange for one of his old friends or even ex-bandmates to call this sudden but Danny did ask him if he had known a place that sells masks so maybe his friend has some information for him now.

“Dude, hey. How are you doing?”

“Been better but everything’s fine.”

“Yeah yeah, I just thought I should call ‘cause the last time we talked, when you asked about the whole mask thingies, you sounded a bit, I don’t know, off?”

Hah no. He was not sounding a bit off. He was losing his goddamn mind over some stupid mask, he definitely sounded deranged.

“It’s kind of important. The mask, I mean. So like, have you asked around or something?” Danny has asked many of his friends, and then he told them to keep asking around if they could help since no one had any idea of where to find strange, metal masks.

“Yeah. I did that. Found nothing. Sorry, Danno.”

“No, it’s okay. Thanks anyway.”

“Alright. By the way, wanna go and grab a drink next time I come back to LA?”

“Sure, why not? See you then, Justin.”

Danny hangs up and mutters “stupid mask” to his phone. Perhaps he should give up and go on with his life since this whole thing is getting out of hand. But to think about it again, he probably won’t able to do that so keep looking is his only option.

“Mask?” A voice pipes up behind him and Danny turns around. It’s that guy, Jorel.

“Yeah, mask. Do you know any place that sells them?”

“Like, face masks, surgical masks?” The guy narrows his eyes at Danny, hands still carrying some equipment.

“No. Like, metal masks. Cover the whole face and everything.”

“Why though? Why do you want to find _metal masks_?” Geez, what is the deal with this guy? Is he always this sceptical toward everything?

“Look, I’m not up to anything--” He starts but Jorel just cuts him off.

“I’m not saying you’re up to anything. I know a place. I just want to know why.” Great. Good news. Except this might mean one more person will think that he’s insane with this story of seeing someone on the street with a dumb mask on his face and now becoming crazy.

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.” And that is one of the most obnoxious things he has heard today.

“Alright,” Danny sighs. “I, uh, I saw a person when I was at the grocery store. They was on the other side of the street and I think they was staring at me? Dunno. And uh, they had a mask on--”

“Was it red?” Danny blinks at Jorel.

“N--No. It was like, golden or something close to that. With something on the eye.” He gestures to his left eye. Jorel raises one of those scarily nice eyebrows at him. How the fuck did he get eyebrows like those?

“Well, I don’t know about that mask, but uh, I did see someone like that, outside my house. He was wearing a red mask, though.”

“He?” Hey, he never knew what gender was them.

“No boobs.” Jorel says in the most boring expression.

“Maybe their boobs were, I dunno, small?” This got Jorel to roll his eyes at him.

“I know a man when I look at one. Anyway, one of my buddies told me about this shop, and I found the red mask there. I didn’t see any that looked _“golden”_ but I think you should still check that place out.”

“But what about the person, I mean that man? The one who wore the masks?”

“Hmm, I don’t want to think more about him, and the red mask, ever since I bought it, hasn’t exploded or whatever, so I guess it was nothing. Could have been a prank or something else.”

Danny stares at the guy. Was he not curious about that person? Jorel continues before he can even think of anything to say.

“Or maybe he was a mask seller trying to boost his shop’s sales. That makes sense right?”

“Just give me the address. I need to find that mask first.”

“Hey come on, you got me interested in who that guy was and now you’re gonna blow me off? Really?”

“Uhh,” This guy is a strange one, isn’t he? But Danny doesn’t feel very annoyed. If they are already in this weird mess together, he might as well make friends with him. “We can talk later if you want. Give me your phone so I can put my number in.”

They exchange phone number (after Jorel has put the equipment down) and Jorel types out the address for him. He also warns Danny about the bad condition of the road to the shop. Though Danny could not care less about that.

“Right, do you need to go back to the uh, animals now? Thanks for the help by the way.” Danny says honestly.

“I just need to clean these and I’m done.” Jorel shrugs. “Hey, on second thought, do you mind if I come with you to the shop? I mean, you don’t have to take me with you buy if you don’t mind, well--”

“Okay, yeah you can come with me. It’s no problem.”

“It’s just, the last time I went there, I only wanted the nightmares to stop.” Nightmares? He’ll ask about those later. “You’re right, something’s up and there has to be a reason why that man targeted us like that, and, and what do these masks have to do with us.”

“You said you didn’t care about this whole thing, and now you seem even more curious than I am.”

“Call it a change of heart. So,” Jorel claps his hands together. “When will we go there?”

Danny silently goes through his schedule in his head. He has a meeting tomorrow with an artist for her new album, then in the next day he has to go to the studio with a new band which is actually not that new but they have not been in the scene for long anyway. After that, not much to do left.

“Are you free Tuesday next week? It’s the earliest I can go.”

“I’m free from 3 pm. I have to work in the morning.”

“Okay…” He trails off. “Where do you live so I’ll pick you up?”

Jorel gives him his address and decides that is the end of the conversation by claiming he has to clean the equipment. Danny says an awkward goodbye and gets back to the front of the shelter.

* * *

Danny picks Jorel up three days later, at 4 pm. It’s a pretty long drive so he supposes they should start when the sun hasn’t set yet. The taller man appears five minutes after Danny called him in a black hoodie with the hood shadowing his face.

The man quickly climbs in while muttering a “hello” to him.

“Is that dog’s hair?” Danny asks, looking at the not-that-black hoodie.

“No, I have a cat. Let’s go.”

Right, how to get this guy to lighten up? Danny doesn’t know but maybe if they can go for a drink (or a lot) after this, he probably will.

The road to that shop is sure bad. It’s all rocky and has so many twists and turns that Danny is now afraid he will get carsick for once in his whole life.

They reach the shop after almost ten minutes of driving on that horrible path.

Danny gets out of the car and reads the sign which looks like it’s one second away from being busted.

“ ** **Shop of the Forgotten**** , strange name, huh?” Jorel says the name out loud. “Let’s go in, I’ll show you where I found my mask.”

The words “my mask” slips out of Jorel’s mouth so naturally that Danny almost doesn’t think twice about it. Almost.

He has always referred to it as “the mask”, never “my”. However, Jorel doesn’t seem to notice anything as he keeps walking toward the shop. Danny decides to not say anything as he follows the other one into a very, very shady looking place.

(Stupid or brave is up to whoever is reading this, he did want to confront a strange, masked person in the dark hour of the day after all. And now, he’s walking into a shop in a very isolated area that doesn’t even have proper lighting inside.)

“You’re back?” He can hear a feminine voice from the inside the shop.

“Yeah, brought someone here. He wants to find a mask too.”

Under the dim light of the shop, Danny can make out a few the girl’s features. Dark wavy hair, pale skin, red lips. She looks almost like someone who could be from early of the 20th century if it weren’t for her clothes and the phone in her hand.

Danny waves at her before going after Jorel to where he had found his mask the last time he went here. Dust tickles his nose but Danny tries his best to not sneeze. It just doesn’t feel comfortable sneezing in such a quiet place.

“I found mine here-- Hey, this one wasn’t there when I found mine.”

Oh fuck, there’s the fucking mask. There’s only one with that colour here. One has both golden and black colours on it, and one is almost completely black, which is the only one that is not fully covered in dust. He can see another one in a glass case on a higher shelf that has two colours of grey and white.

But they are not his priority here. Danny picks up the golden-coloured mask and blows some dust off it. He sees Jorel fans the dust away using his hand and glares at Danny but he can care about that later.

He has finally found it. Fucking hell.

“Are we good now? I really don’t like being in here for long.” Jorel taps on his shoulder.

“Yeah, let’s go pay for this.”

The girl asks for five dollars and they leave quietly. Jorel comments about it’s the same with his mask, which does not surprise Danny. When they have finally been back inside his car, Danny can take a clearer look at the mask under the light on the car ceiling.

The “cross” on the mask turns out to be two bullets, and the mask’s “lips” is actually a smirk. Cool. He puts the mask away and starts the car. Hopefully, his head will be back to normal after this. He’s so done with being insane. 

The shop disappears from their sights quickly after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter took a different turn than what I expected when I first got down to writing it. I hope the dialogues in Danny's parts aren't too much. I am usually better at writing and conveying emotions than telling a story from the beginning to the end.  
> As usual, in a friendly note, kudos and comments are the best things I get from writing (especially comments, so don't be shy). Hope to write the next chapter soon, and thanks all for reading ❤❤❤


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happy family, another mask in the night.  
> Dylan goes on a hike with his dog.  
> Matty fucks up his shoulder.
> 
> I don't think I'mma take these summaries very seriously anymore. They are exhausting to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit short than the third chapter but I think it's still long enough.  
> I'm still pretty busy and I'm taking an exam tomorrow lmao.  
> I'm also working on another WIP so these two would have to share my time. 
> 
> Have fun reading!

A car is speeding on the highway with loud music can be heard by others outside. Probably because of the lack of a roof.

A man can be seen driving it. He wears a pair of glasses and a very nice jacket, which (shhh!) covers many of his tattoos. On the passenger seat, there is a big cardboard box just slightly opens.

The man reaches his house half an hour later and gets the box out of the car. He quickly makes his way into the house after that.

“Hey Asia, I’m home.” He calls out, closing the door after him.

His wife appears on the staircase, face bright with a smile only for him. He thinks his daughter, Ava, is probably at school right now, seeing it's Thursday today. It's just his wife and their younger daughter, Chloe, at home, waiting for him to be back from the interview in San Diego.

It was a book festival, but it was a good chance to promote his new book. And he also managed to snatch a few good novels for both Ava and himself. One perk of being a writer in a book fest is that it’s always easier for him to grab a book or two without having to stand in lines for a long ass time in the hot, frustrating weather.

“George!” His wife pulls him into a tight hug after he has put the box down and raises her head to kiss him on the lips. Ahh, another thing he’s missed while being away. “You’re home early.”

She sounds surprised. Well, he can’t blame her. He did say he would be away for about three days, and he’s home after two days. But since all of the copies of his book have been sold out so quickly, he has used that as the excuse to go home early.

“I’ve missed you, so, you know.” He gives her a soft smile and pulls away from the hug. “And you know how all of them are sold out. No need to stay for longer.”

“Yes, and that is amazing.” She lets out an airy laugh. “You should go get some rest since you’re probably tired from the trip. I’m gonna make dinner.”

“I can help.” He insists.

“Nope. Go to the bedroom and take a shower or something. Then get some rest. Don’t fight me.”

George chuckles. Yeah, he doesn't want to fight her too. She always wins.

“Alright. I need to put these books in Ava’s room too.”

“Good. Now shoo! And don’t make any loud noise. Chloe is sleeping.”

George kisses her again before walking up the stairs to Ava's room. He swears he's only dropping the books there. He doesn't do snooping around in his daughter's room. The man does what he has been intended to do before getting to Asia's and his bedroom. A shower and lying down on the bed do sound nice. He still has 2 hours until dinner.

* * *

Dinner is amazing. He’s missed his wife’s cooking and Ava’s chattering about her day at school. It’s only been two days but hey, he’s a family man, he has the rights to miss them.

Also, he has told his oldest daughter about the books and she’s so excited that he was almost unsure if she could even eat her dinner. But all of his doubt melts away as soon as Asia gets the food out on the table.

"Everyone's finished?" Asia asks after dinner. "Okay, George, you can take Chloe to the living and watch her. Ava, help me clean up."

He picks his younger daughter up and gets out of the kitchen, still hearing Ava chatting with her mom. There's not much to do while waiting for them. He turns on the TV and holds his daughter close to his chest.

The street lamp on the other side of the road flickers and he can even see some sparks flying in the air. As the window is open, he can hear some strange noises the wind makes. George puts Chloe down in her playhouse, which has been padded and secured so she can’t really get out of it.

George opens the door and steps outside. It's then he realizes that it's not just the lamp in front of his house is flickering, but others on that side of the street are as well. He makes his way to the gate just as a lightning bolt cuts the sky in half and brightens up the whole neighbourhood.

There it is, a figure standing on a low roof of the house opposite to his. The lights stop flickering and some from the houses nearby are even switched on, which helps him see the person more clearly.

That's a tall one, he's sure. Tall, with big hair, and a mask? Yup, he can make out three distinct features of that person. They also wear some sort of long, big jacket, which doesn't help him in identifying their gender.

And the mask, now that's an odd thing. It looks black and gold, with the black colour made into two shapes of something. They is a bit far away for him to really see the mask. It doesn't feel right, though. Like a gut feeling is telling him that the mask should be of a different colour, but he doesn't know which colour.

Lightning flashes again and the lights all go out, including those of the street lamps, for just a second. However, when the street lamps are on again, the person has disappeared from that house’s roof.

“No.” George mutters. He needs to find that person. Something doesn’t feel right and he thinks he has to fix it. It’s just, he doesn’t know what he has to fix for exact. Maybe it’s the mask’s colours? That definitely doesn’t feel very correct.

“George? What are you doing out there?” Asia is calling him from the living room.

“Nothing. I just thought I saw something.”

“Well, if it’s nothing, you can get back to your dear daughter, who you’ve left alone in here.”

George sighs, looking around once more to make sure before retreating into his house. He’s met with a disapproval look from his wife and a confused one from his oldest daughter. They don’t ask anything else though, so he tells Ava to pick a movie to watch and relax for the rest of the evening.

That night when he goes to bed, George struggles to fall asleep with the thoughts of needing to fix something swimming in his mind. Probably the mask, even though he doesn't know how. He tosses and turns all night, just to really fall unconscious at about 3 am, according to the alarm clock on his nightstand. But even in dreams, everything is disordered and in the centre of all the chaos is the one and same golden/black mask.

* * *

Dylan closes the door of his apartment and sighs loudly, which kind of causes some concern from his dog who has been looking at him with those big eyes. He even licks at Dylan’s hands when he hears the sigh.

“I’m fine, King Kong, no need to lick my hands.”

The dog whines and runs into the living room, jumping on the couch. Alright, he guesses he can give in and cuddle with King Kong for a while. The dog gets the scratches he wants and Dylan still can’t get any info on the fucking mask.

He has headaches sometimes, which comes with a soft ringing voice telling him to find it. His only guess would be the mask, seeing that the first time and the worst time the headache has happened was a bit after he had seen the mask. Also, he still remembers the first time the voice has messed with him, it has told him to find the mask at first.

“Maybe we should go for a hike or something, King. Get some fresh air, clear my goddamn head. What do think, buddy?”

His dog lets out an excited “woof” and nudges Dylan’s hand with his head.

“Okay, a hike it is then.”

He finds a day when he’s free of any sort of work and starts planning. It’s only two days from now and he knows he’s not exactly the type to remember everything he needs.

Dylan's got a checklist and sits down with King Kong, pretending that the dog is actually helping him. Obviously, he needs some basic things first: water, a lot of water, bandages, some snacks and a cane or some shit.

“What do you think?” He turns to King Kong, who huffs in reply. “Yeah, food and water for you too. And bags for, you know?”

King Kong lies down, ears twitching. Right, he can’t actually help.

“Maybe a change of clothes? Just in case something comes up?” He writes it down. “Do I need money?”

Well, he’ll be in the wood so he doesn’t think money is very necessary. But something is nagging in the back of his mind uncomfortably, which results in Dylan writing it down on the list. Then he continues with a hat, a jacket, a lighter and medicines.

“...my portable changer, do not forget the phone as well. Hmm, these should be enough.” There are over twenty things on the list now and Dylan feels a bit better, especially since the last headache with the voice he had was just an hour ago. He put the list on his fridge and gets on with his day.

* * *

The day of the hike has come and he has prepared everything on the list. King Kong is in his harness and all, looking happy as ever to be outside. Dylan checks his bag one last time before getting out of his house. He calls for a ride to drive him to near the forest.

The weather is nice today, which has been a blessing. He also hasn’t had a headache since last night so he’s pretty happy about everything. A blunt would make the day even better but he doesn’t really want to start a forest fire so no blunt for him.

At noon, Dylan stops in a clear part of the forest and looks for something to sit down on. He gets the food for King Kong out first before getting his out. Lunch in the middle of nature is not bad if he’s being honest. It will be better if the fucking bugs would leave him alone, though.

He has just finished his lunch when something rattles behind the trees and King Kong’s ears twitch. The dog turns around the look at the shadows of the forest.

“King Kong, what--” Before he could finish the sentence, his dog bolt into the dark, the leash, which has been tied to his legs (there was no other thing to tie it to, alright?), getting yanked with him, causing Dylan to fall on his butt.

“No! Come back here!”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck this is not good. He snatches his bag up from the ground and dashes after King Kong. If he's fast enough he can catch up to him at some point. Otherwise, he has to be smart enough to follow King Kong's traces and it already makes his brain hurt from thinking about having to be smart.

Dylan sees his goddamn dog half an hour later, chewing on some leaves under a tall tree.

“What the hell are you eating? Spit that out.” It could be poisonous or not and he doesn’t want to risk anything.

After getting all of the leaves out of King Kong’s mouth, Dylan just flops down on the dirty ground and breathe.

“I am really questioning my life choices right now, King. Seriously.” The dog huffs and licks his face, getting slobber all over his face, which is disgusting. But he doesn’t have much energy to do anything about it so he just lies there and lets the dog do whatever (with the leash in his hand, of course).

 _Fuck it._ Dylan thinks and gets some of his stuff out from the bag. One blunt wouldn't hurt. He'll bury it into the ground afterwards. He deserves at least this after chasing his dog like a mad man through the forest and possibly gets lost as well.

True to his words, what left of the blunt is buried all nice and neat after that. He’s sure that they are now lost and the best he can do now is finding the way out before it gets too late.

“C’mon buddy.” He tugs the leash and the dog runs up ahead of him.

When he sees the first house, it has been about six or seven in the evening. Actually, it just looks like a house, but now that he’s closer, he can see a small sigh with flickering letters saying ****“Shop of the Forgotten”****. Maybe he can ask for directions or something.

Dylan ties the leash outside and opens the door to the shop. A girl is sitting behind the desk by the door, who is on her phone. The whole shop is only dimly-lit and he can smell the faint scent of dust in the air.

“Excuse me--” He starts.

“Somewhere in there. Some people keep coming here to buy those stupid masks. So I’m guessing you’re here for one too.”

_Mask? And people?_

As the girl has gone back to typing on her phone, Dylan keeps quiet while walking to the back of the shop. Who knows what masks are in here? Maybe he can find the one he’s looking for.

Everything around him is so silent that Dylan can hear the soft tapping sounds his shoes make. He doesn’t even dare to breathe very loudly. The musty smell is making his nose itch and the dark doesn’t help his vision a lot. The chance of coming across the fucking mask is really low so he doesn’t keep his hope up.

The first mask he sees is a half-white-half -grey one inside the glass case on a high shelf. So he quickly makes his way over and oh there it is, the black mask. It's the only one lying on the shelf, next to a clean spot. Maybe something has just got bought, like, another mask?

But he couldn't care less about that one or the one in the case. Because he has found the black mask that has been looking for. Dylan brushes the dust of it using one of his sleeves. He then grins to himself and goes back to the front.

“That one?” The girl asks.

“Yeah, and how much is this?”

“Five bucks.”

He’s glad that he has brought some money with him. Could be luck or something else. Dylan pays the girl and just then remembers to ask for directions.

“Lost, huh? Unlike the others--” Her voice trails off before she actually gives him the directions.

He says goodbye to her and gets out. When he's untying his dog, a man walks out from the shadows. Dylan can't really make out his feathers but from the way he's walking and holding himself, he can say that he's pissed. The man's hair is pulled into some sort of ponytail, if he can call it that since it looks pretty frizzy.

_Just like that person._

But before he can confront him, the man walks past him and into the shop, the door closing roughly behind him.

Dylan is not the one to get himself involved with troubles much. Well, maybe not with strangers who’s already angry in the middle of the forest and probably has some teleport power. A bit too specific, yeah.

So he puts the mask into his bag and steps away from the shop, calling his dog with him. The directions have been correct and soon enough, he is met with the lights from the streets and houses. Dylan books a car to pick him up and waits.

He has thought having found the mask would ease all of his worries and give him some rest but now, he's not so sure anymore. Some questions have popped up in his head including: Who was that man? And, who are those people who also came to that shop to buy the other masks?

* * *

Matt is pissed. Something went wrong with the magic when he was teleporting away from the house opposite to the Ragan’s house and he ended up fucking his shoulder up by smacking it at a wall. He knows he had his aim correct but something glitched and now his shoulder hurts like a bitch.

The man gets out from a cab and teleports to behind a tree near the shop again, careful not to get glitched again. The magic for teleportation only works for a short distance but at least he doesn't have to walk all the way from outside the forest to the shop. It goes smoothly this time but it doesn't make him less mad. He has work later and now he can't even lift his arm.

When he gets out from behind the tree, he can see Dylan fucking Alvarez untying the leash of a dog in front of the shop. Matt has thought about retreating into the shadows but since Alvarez has already seen him, it's best to just get inside the shop and hope the other wouldn't approach him.

He calls for some shadow using the magic they have given him to cover his face a bit. He then walks straight the door of the shop, not giving Alvarez any second to stop him. Matt closes the door with a little more force than usual, hoping it will chase the other away.

“Hey Dahlia, I’m here to return this.” He shows her the mask before going to the back of the shop and puts it back on the shelf.

The mask in the glass box catches his eyes again and he ends up staring at it for a few seconds. He probably will never understand why they have told him, no, forbidden him to touch the glass case and the mask. Matt pulls his thoughts together and away from the mask, walking back to Dahlia to receive his ID.

He peers out through the glass of the door to make sure Alvarez has gone and gets back outside himself. Matt finds himself on the edge of the forest as he teleports again. He calls for another cab and rubs his shoulder. Work in an hour, how exhausting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit hesitant to put George's family in here but I figured I should just do something different than having all of the guys alone with just their pets (I don't think I even gave Jordon a goddamn pet). Btw, what do you think of my job choice for J3T? I like to think I was pretty creative to come up with that.
> 
> Leave me a comment or two (and kudos if you haven't) if you like this. Hope to get back to this fic soon ❤❤❤


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continue with George.  
> Jordon messes around with the bandana a little.  
> Dylan goes to a bar with an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. It's been a while.
> 
> So, I didn't want to update or write too late, but the speaking test was hard, and it was even harder doing online! Everything was fine, and then some people just had to travel abroad before the fucking biggest holiday of the year in my country, Lunar New Year! Now there are Covid cases in my fucking province, and it might even go into lockdown. It was not this bad the last time! All of the universities/schools let students go home for the holiday early in case of a lockdown, and I had like, 3 hours to pack and clean my rented place before a car picked me up. Couldn't risk taking the bus. Sorry, I'm a bit angry and it's late.
> 
> Also, now I remember how I could write so much while studying far from home. I had freedom! Now I have a fucking schedule. Urgh! The price to pay for free time.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy and don't yell at me if this is stupid to you guys.

Over a week later and George finds himself looking through all the old folklore books, hoping he might discover something about weird metal masks and people disappearing in a flash of lightning, literally. He has never thought all the books about folklore and myths would come in handy one day outside of helping him write his books.

He groans and puts his head in his hands before closing the ridiculously thick book. The man looks at his phone, awaiting the call that would probably never come. He has asked most of his old friends and new colleagues to see if they have any info on these things but so far, the only ones that have called all said the same thing.

He knows he shouldn’t be worrying about that damn mask but it just keeps feeling wrong. That mask just seemed wrong. He’s not sure he’s in any position to tell if it’s wrong or not, since that was the first time he has seen it, but he can’t really get the thoughts out of his head.

Asia knocks on the door of his study and smiles at him as he looks up. A tray of something is balancing on her hand.

“How is research going, babe?”

“Not good, actually.” He admits, taking the tray from her hand. Coffee and some apple slices. “Thanks for bringing me food. You’re the best.”

"I know. Remember to go down for dinner on time. Okay?"

“Alright. Love you.”

She hums in response and makes her way out. George chews on a slice absentmindedly and scans through his stack of books once more. The whole research just feels useless and exhausting to him. There has to be a more efficient way to figure this shit out.

He still has about an hour before dinner. Maybe he should go for a walk. His house is on a safe street, with many houses being close to each other. He’ll be fine. And it’s not even that dark yet.

“I’m going out!” He calls out loud. “I’ll be back in time for dinner!”

George leaves as he hears his wife telling him to be safe.

There aren't many people on the street and most houses are brightly lit. He can see a few of his neighbours around, going jogging or a quick grocery run. He shoves his hands into his jacket's pockets and looks at nothing particularly.

He’s not sure how going for a walk would help him with the whole situation, but it does feel better than just sitting around, researching with no real result. Now if only an old buddy of his from his old days in those gangs would know something. That mask seemed pretty gangster, to be honest.

His phone vibrates in his jeans pocket. George fishes it out and looks at the caller ID.

“Fuck.” He mutters. It’s a guy from the publisher. He has promised to help them with some book about nature or something. It’s not really his thing to write about trees and soil and shit, but since a famous conservation scientist has asked his publisher with his book, and his publisher has turned to him, well, he didn’t have the heart to refuse.

The scientist is young, probably in her late 20s, and has little experience in writing a book. He has just finished a new one and hasn't expressed the desire to write another, so proposal goes straight to him. In return, he'll get one-third of profits compared to hers. Not too bad, even though he was sure not many people would care to read the book, and it was not like he needs money or anything.

But he did agree to help her, and writing skills alone would not be enough. He has to go with her crew to the forest for some real forestry experience too. A day out should be nice, he has always been fond of nature a little.

But that was before the whole mask thing. He has forgotten about this.

"Hey, Anthony." He says into his phone.

"George, hey man, we're scheduled to go the day after tomorrow, okay? Just bring some light clothes, raincoats, snacks and water. The crew has prepared everything else. We're going at 7 am and returning at 5 pm. There'll be an email later to help you with the schedule of the crew and for more info. Sorry that I'm calling a little late."

“Yeah no, it’s okay.” He’s lying through his teeth now, but he can’t just say _Hey, I’ve totally forgotten about this so thanks for reminding me._ That will end in a disaster. “I’ll check my email later. Thanks for calling.”

“Alright. See ya later, man.”

“Yea, goodbye.”

Welp, a day wasted on scientific hiking. Great. His mind can take a day off the mask, right?

* * *

George stabs the cane into the soft soil. They have finally reached the part of the forest that the scientist, Leya, wants to. It's not too deep in, but deep enough for an an-hour-hike. The others in the crew start to put up their equipment and tents while George just wanders around, looking a bit lost.

"Nice day, huh?" A younger man says to him while pulling some stuff out from his bag. "You can look around a little if you like. It'll be long until we finish setting up everything. Just don't get lost."

“Alright,” He draws that out.

George takes sometimes to walk a bit far away from the crew. He leaves a trace by using his cane to draw a line on the ground. It's easy to get lost in the forest. The writer takes some pictures with his camera which he has remembered to bring with. They can go on his Instagram later.

He comes back twenty minutes later to the panicking mess of scientists.

“What happened?”

“Two of our power supplies just, I don’t know, exploded? And these wires are all burnt.” The young scientist points to the patch of smoking grass. “We have one power supply left, you know, just in case, but it won’t be enough.”

He doesn’t know how to reply to that, but as Anthony walks out from behind the trees, he thinks he doesn’t need to anymore.

“I contacted one of my friends here, local. He said there’s a house or something near our location. If we can find it, maybe we can ask the owner for some help. At least enough to make up for one power supply. So, who wants to go find that house?”

“I’ll go.” One in the crew, Jean, that’s her name, volunteers.

“You’re not going alone, it’s easy to get lost here. Anyone else?”

Well, it’s not like he has any other thing to do.

"I'll go with her," George says easily.

“Alright, bring this with you.” A woman hands him a long wire. “And this because the cell service can get bad in some places of the forest.”

He takes the walkie-talkie from her and follows Jean. She’s using a compass to find the way around, and he’s finding it a bit ridiculous that they can’t use Google Maps for this shit. He bets if he turns the thing on now, it would just say “Angeles National Forest” and maybe some trails. This part of the forest is not even popular among the hikers.

“This way. Anthony said something about the house being on our East.”

The sun is shining all high and bright by the time the house appears in front of them. It doesn’t look like a house much, nor a cabin. There is a sign hanging below a tree branch. The neon light is still on, despite daytime and its state of flickering. Someone really should fix that or something.

 ** **“Shop of the Forgotten.”**** He reads the sign. Jean looks around and through the window, hands fidgeting the compass nervously. “Should we go in?”

“I don’t know. This place is looking a bit, well…shady?” She grins awkwardly at him. He takes that as a suggestion for him to enter the shop alone.

“Alright, then you can wait out here, I guess.” George hands her the walkie-talkie and tells her to call her colleagues. The cell signal is bad, just like he has been warned.

George is a bit hesitant. It’s not about the, uh, shop but something else. Maybe it’s the atmosphere or some stupid gut feelings. But he pushes the door in anyway, seeing that it’s unlocked. The doorbell chimes happily and he can see the young woman sitting behind a desk by the door.

“Good morning.” He says before she could look up from her phone.

“Oh hi. This is the morning.” She says, voice full of surprise.

“Yes? I’m just wondering if you can let me…” She cuts him off.

“You guys usually find this place in the evening.” She frowns. “But whatever. In the back. Go find your stuff then we can deal with your wire thing later.” And then she goes back to typing on her phone.

George looks at the heavy wire coiled up and held in his hand, then looks at the narrow space between every two shelves. George sighs, feeling curiosity rising up in his head. The man drops the wire by the doorway and makes his way to the back of the shop, expecting nothing.

Well, there are some weird and some normal items on the shelves, like that creep doll or a whole shit load of wedding rings. He also sees baby clothes, some bracelets, music instruments, and a few pairs of metal wings. The whole shop just seems to scream _What the fuck?!_ at him.

George looks up, eyes scanning the stuffed animals on some higher shelves. He even catches a glimpse of what looks like someones’ pictures on the wall, half behind some weird, broken toys. The smell of dust just makes this place more melancholic at this point.

He finds a mask. Particularly, it's half grey half white and is propped up inside a glass case. He stares at the mask for a short while, taking in the details. Someone probably had the idea of merging the two theatrical masks into one, because half of it is smiling and the half is scowling. It's pretty cool, he has to admit. Reminds him of that mask he saw…

“Wait a damn second…” George mutters. He quickly goes over to the shelf right under the glass case.

Oh fuck, he’s going to lose his damn mind. The golden and black mask is lying there, collecting dust. He breathes out heavily and picks it up. It still feels wrong to him, but the only thing he cares about is that he has found it. The man blows the dust away and carefully examines it.

The two black shapes on two side of the mask look like two number 3 and there are small butterflies scattering everywhere on the mask. Whoever made this must have been extremely skilful and mindful of the details.

He has to buy this.

George checks his bag, which he has been lucky to bring with while looking for the house, or rather, the shop. He has two hundred bucks because Asia has insisted that he should have some money with him. Good enough, he hopes, because this mask should cost a lot.

He finds his way back to the front, clearing his throat to get the woman’s attention.

“That should be the last one, except for, well, the one in the box.” She says, putting her phone down. “That would be five dollars.”

“Just five dollars? For real?” He blinks at her, processing the information.

“Yeah, you want me to charge you more? And I have a socket outside the house, below the sign. You can plug your wire in there.”

He hands her the money and waits for the charge (come on, it’s a twenty dollars bill). He thanks her, puts the mask in his bag and picks the wire up before going out.

“Hey, you were in there for a really long time.” Jean, who was sitting down on the porch, stands up the look at him. “It was so tempting to call for help, really. I thought you have been kidnapped or something.”

“Nah, everything's fine. Don’t worry about it. Uh, and the owner said we could plug this in a socket under the sign.”

George checks for the socket. plugs it in and carefully uncoils the wire. He has to keep the other end from touching his body, or he'll be fried. Jean watches him with wide eyes and follows him back to the places. Well, she navigates them back using her compass but somehow, he's always a foot ahead of her.

He arrives home later that day and while he’s in the shower, George has cleaned the mask of dust. He thinks about putting it on, but on the second thought, he feels like he shouldn’t. And the mask is still wrong.

* * *

Jordon is walking down the street, humming a random song happily. He's having a good day, he should be allowed to be happy once in a while. The man takes a turn at a corner of the street and finally sees the door of the building where his apartment is.

The place is clean, or somewhat clean for once. The bandana is still hanging on a hanger in his bedroom, clear of dust but unused. He’s not even sure what he can use for. Feeling curious, besides, he’s in a good mood today, Jordon takes the bandana off the hanger and looks at it.

“What to do with you?” He asks the bandana, but obviously, he doesn’t get an answer back.

He can tie it around his bicep, wrap it around his wrist, or his head, or even his neck. The possibilities are endless. But it doesn’t feel right in those places.

“Face?” He mutters, lifting the piece of clothes up and folds it in half. He puts it on his face, passing his nose a little and ties it. Not too tight so it wouldn’t hurt but tight enough for it to stay. It seems right, but something is missing. Maybe his cap?

He puts the old, ragged thing on, but the whole look still doesn’t feel very right. It’s better, yes, but not there yet. Jordon racks his brain, trying to come up with something sensible and maybe a bit cool?

(He knows he could be trying too hard here but bear with him, he's having fun with this.)

After a whole minute of thinking and staring at his own face in the mirror, Jordon decides to drop it. Take off the cap and the bandana, then put them in the same place. He will be coming back to them later.

The man checks his phone. Thursday. Which means the bar. Monday, Wednesday, Friday, he works at the strip club as a bartender. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, the bar, also as a bartender. He doesn’t make much money, but it’s enough for him to let himself take Sunday off for some _him_ time.

Jordon leaves his bedroom to go find some food. But before stepping out of his door, he takes one last glance at the bandana.

“Charlie Scene,” He mutters. Should he bring it out with him for a change? “Hmm.”

The door closes with a soft click.

* * *

Dylan doesn't go out often. Well, not anymore to these kinds of bars. Ever since he started to enter the acting business, he has always tried to keep out of these places. They are just a bit shadier than those his friends usually drag him to nowadays.

He knows his roots, he had been in these places thousands of times before. He's just more hesitant, probably. But an old friend has called, and maybe it was because he wanted some nostalgia, Dylan agrees. He dropped King Kong at his neighbour's house and left at a bit past 9 pm.

The bar is not too crowded by the time they arrive. It's still pretty early according to many people, especially those who enjoy going to shady bars and strips clubs. But there is some music and people swaying, trying to dance everywhere already.

Wow, he has missed this.

His friend picks a spot for them to sit while asking him about his job. He likes Tommy, they were really close friends for a long time. They have done crazy shits together in high school and Tommy was the one to make him his first fake ID. And though he is now working as a fucking architect out of every job he could have picked, he still looks and sounds like that dumb kid Dylan knew from 8th grade.

"...like, dude, the first time I saw your fucking face on that show, I almost lost my shit. And you should know, I called you and screamed at you for not telling me. Like, what the hell, Dilly?"

"Right, my left ear still hasn't healed. Thanks for that." Dylan laughs, gesturing for one of the bartenders to come over.

Dylan doesn’t care much about the bartender at first, when Tommy is ordering his drink.

"Hey, Dilly, what do you want?"

He raises his head up, thinking for a moment before looking at the bartender to order. His face stops him short, however.

“Do, do I know you?” He asks before his brain filter could work properly.

The bartender looks confused before a grin creeps up on his face.

“Is this your attempt at flirting with me?”

Dylan almost rolls his eyes as Tommy chuckles beside him. The man’s face just clicks in his brain, in some way he doesn’t even know. He’s aware for a fact that they probably have never met, seeing that he can't think of anyone he knows, or know, that looks like that. But he swears the bartender looks way too familiar for a stranger.

“N--no. Seriously, did we meet?”

“If you have gone to that strip club a few blocks from here, then maybe. Now, what will you have?” The grin hasn’t disappeared. Dylan swallows whatever he wants to ask and asks for a random thing, most likely not the one he has thought of.

The bartender turns to find their drinks, leaving him with Tommy. Dylan's brain is running millions of miles per hour to find out who that bartender can be. But he can't get anything relating to him out of any memory.

He takes another looks at the bartender, now noticing the white bandana wrapping around his wrist. He knows that man. Dylan is sure of this, and he will find out how he knows this man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left this for too long. Almost 10 days. And my mind was blank as I wrote it. I managed but it has to be a little weird, right?
> 
> I didn't know how to make George find the shop so I came up with something dumb, ignore that, heh. And I remembered I haven't had Jordon in here for way too long. I also know they all seem a bit OOC but I had no idea how to write real people, and most of my other fics are just centred on one person only.
> 
> I'll be working on letting them find each other and (kind of) HU memories lost and found fuckery so I'm a bit excited. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this, and just a small reminder, comments are always appreciated here!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dylan needs an answer to why that man is so familiar to him.  
> Danny and Jorel are just making music and chilling. Or are they?  
> (Spoiler: Anxiety has entered the chat.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what the fuck I was thinking while writing this so, yeah. It's just there are so many things I have to do lately, and I've been yelled at more than usual for lagging. You know, just life at home while you're living with your grandparents and mom and siblings.
> 
> Also, I suck at using slangs. And mostly because my first language is not English, again. So if they sound dorkier than they should, you can blame it on my ancestors.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

Dylan is intrigued. Of course he would be, especially with both how familiar and unfamiliar that man is to him. It’s almost like a pull, but don’t get him wrong, it’s not a romantic attraction. He would know if it were.

So when another bartender comes to their seats, he asks when the bar closes for the night. The bartender has a confused look on her face but gives him the answer nonetheless. 3 am, not very ideal to him but it’s not that bad. And he doesn’t have to film anything tomorrow so it’s no harm going to bed at the time when people go to work either.

Dylan hasn’t drunk much. Tommy seems to be hammered already, and it’s almost 2 in the morning. He gets Tommy out of the bar and calls for a car to take them back to the hotel where his buddy is staying at. He helps Tommy to his room, all warm and nice under the cover, before calling for another car to go back to the bar.

It’s now fifteen minutes to 3 am. Dylan is hoping to somehow catch the man when he leaves for home.

Dylan is not exactly sober though. He would say he’s a bit tipsy, but he can still be aware of everything happening around him. So when the backdoor opens to reveal a familiar face, though shadowed by the cap on his head, Dylan jumps up to block the man’s path.

“Well, I know I’m very sexy and irresistible but this is new.” His tone is teasing, but there’s a tint of surprise to it as well. Dylan’s willing to bet his career that this guy deals with everything using humour.

He now gets a clear look, or as clear as it can get with alcohol in his system, of the bandana wrapping around the man’s wrist. There seems to be some kind of pattern on it, too. Not the generic kind, he can tell even though he can’t make out what it is exactly.

Dylan wonders where has the man bought it.

“Sorry.” He blurts out. “I just, I don’t even know anymore. This does sound crazy but hear me out.”

"Hmm." The guy looks like he's thinking, or faking thinking. "Nope, sorry. I don't get with strangers."

Dylan mentally groans upon seeing the smirk. This is going to be so difficult. And he’s definitely not sober enough to cope with the whole situation. In hindsight, he should have drunk less.

“I’m, no. Shit, dude. If you just focus--”

“Right, okay no more joking. I’m all ears.”

He sighs in relief and takes a deep breath.

“I still think you’re familiar.” When he is met with a mix of both confused and amused expressions, he explains further. “I don’t really know how to say it though. I know we have never met, but you just seem very familiar.”

“Like, the whole _we met in another life_ bullshit?” The guy chimes in.

“Yeah. It feels like that.” He admits, feeling glad to find a phrase to describe the situation.

“I don’t find you familiar at all though.” The guy’s eyes stare at him. “I’m Jordon, with an O.”

“Jordan already has an O--”

“No. J-O-R-D-O-N. Maybe I should start saying Jordon with two Os.”

"Yeah, you should. I'm Dylan, by the way."

“Dylan. Okay. You seem interesting, and even though this whole _you seem familiar_ thing is weird as shit, I can use a friend. Wanna exchange number and talk later. I mean, it’s late, or early since it's 3 am, and I’m feeling like death.” Jordon gestures around as if to make a point.

"Yeah sure, we can do that. Give me your phone." He puts in his number as Jordon puts his in Dylan's phone as well. "I'll call you later. Uh, I guess we should go home?"

“That’s what I was intending to do until, yup. See you around.” Jordon waves and takes a left turns. Dylan walks in the opposite direction and calls for another ride.

Sitting in the cab and staring at the new number under the name **Jordon** on his phone, Dylan can't help but feel a little bit shocked but the event.

He went out with Tommy for a nice time drinking and reminiscing about their good old days. He didn’t really expect anything else to happen. Maybe walking home with Tommy also shitfaced next to him, singing off-key to some of their old music, but not this.

 _There has to be an answer to this._ He thinks to himself. _Either that, or I’ve finally gone nuts._

He hopes it’s the first one. Whatever the answer is, it will definitely be more pleasant than the latter.

Dylan pays the driver and makes his way up to his apartment. He will pick up King Kong in the morning, or afternoon from his neighbours in the building. Knocking on someone's door at half-past three in the morning will only earn him a punch in his face.

He collapses on his bed, looking at the name once more. He doesn’t know if it’s his drunken brain or his way-too-friendly side of him, but the word _homie_ rolls off his tongue easily.

At that moment, he knows that he's simply too tired with a side of being tipsy from the considerable amount of alcohol he has drunk for the night to keep up with the possible following events that might happen after today.

So he does what a sensible, functional grown-ass adult would do. He charges his fucking phone and fucks off to sleep in his normal clothes.

* * *

“What do you think about those other masks in that shop?”

“Huh?” Jorel looks up from the mask in his hands. “The other ones?”

“Yeah, I mean, we saw that black mask, and the black and gold one. There’s that grey and white one in that glass box too. Do you think there are other people buying them?”

It’s an honest question. He can say that. He can also tell that Danny is curious about many things. Meanwhile, Jorel is ignoring all of this bullshit to enjoy his beauty sleep without the stupid nightmares about the masks.

The red mask has been dangling on his coat hanger for a while now. He likes keeping it clean though. Letting it be covered in dust just doesn’t sit well with him. He hasn’t tried it on, not once, but it’s pretty tempting to do so.

Another good thing that comes out of this mask business is that he has a new friend to hang out with. Danny is fun to be around even though the dog has scared Ghost once or twice when Danny brought Louie over.

One more thing, his new friend makes music. Not necessary as a singer or in a band, but he still makes music nonetheless. Helping artists with their music, producing, playing some extra instrumental parts, you name it. His house is cluttered with a piano, music sheets, basses and guitars.

Jorel has always liked music. A bit of everything too. Some rock here, some rap there, some metal and then pop. He has never had anyone to talk music with, until now. And it’s even better that Danny actually takes his suggestions into consideration.

So when Danny asks him the question about the masks in the middle of their songwriting hour of today, Jorel is caught off guard. He guesses he just hasn't given much thought about the other masks much to really know how to answer.

“I have no idea.” He shrugs as Danny puts down the pen and loosens his grip on the guitar.

“Do you still have those nightmares anymore?”

“Nah. Everything’s back to normal.” He leans back on the couch, seeing that Danny probably won’t just go back to writing.

“I think we should go back and check. The cashier has to know something, right? Something is off.”

He doesn’t know what is off to Danny, because everything is fucking fantastic lately. Full night rest and cool ass music and all. But he would be lying if he said this conversation has not successfully grabbed his attention and curiosity.

“And that creepy dude! The one that was outside your house and outside that grocery store! Like, what the hell was he doing? I swear I thought he was hypnotizing me or something. I couldn’t stop thinking about the mask until I bought it.” The guitar is set aside now and Danny is stacking all of his music sheets.

“Maybe he was. I think I read somewhere that hypnotism could cause nightmares.” He adds, now almost fully invests in the topic. “Do you really want to go back and check the shop? I don’t think it’s very necessary.”

He actually doesn’t know if he wants to. It’s not like they can know who else have bought the other masks. The cashier might have cared enough to know he has come to the shop twice and remember his face, but he doubts anyone would leave her their address _“in case there are people buying other masks”_.

The blond hasn’t answered him, being busy putting away the stack of papers and cleaning up the trashed ones. He hangs up the guitar in its place on the wall before going to his room.

 _Okay, rude much?_ Jorel thinks quietly. The asshole could have answered his very simple question before fucking off.

Danny comes back with his golden mask in hands, brows furrow as if he’s deep in thought. The sunlight from the window reflects on the surface of the mask and Danny’s hair, making the room way too bright for Jorel’s liking.

“I haven’t tried it on.” He turns the mask left and right. “I mean, I want to, but-- It just seems weird.”

“I haven’t either.” He admits. “I still have in on my coat hanger at home.”

“I wanna go and check, seriously. There’s still time today, and do you have to work tonight?”

“Nah. I only had a morning shift today. Wait, are you saying we’re going to the shop tonight?”

He knows Danny is a bit random at times but this is way too spontaneous, even for him. And Jorel likes having a real schedule, which is not what Danny is suggesting right now.

"Yup. I'm thinking we can swing over to your place a little first. We should try on these masks together. Could be fun and I know you're all about that gangster bullshit. And then we'll go back to check on the shop."

“You should feel really lucky I don’t have more shifts today.” He frowns a little, emphasizing every word. The blond one just chuckles as if Jorel were being humourous and leaves to grab a jacket, the mask still held tight in his hand.

Jorel sighs, standing up to stretch a little. Two whole hours lazing on a couch listening to Danny strumming on his guitar and muttering to himself can make everyone feel a bit stiff. He picks up his own jacket and goes to the door to wait for his friend.

* * *

Danny doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t even know why he suggested going back to the shop in the first place. Jorel did say he disliked being in the shop, but it still doesn’t seem to much of a big deal.

The shop was a bit creepy to him too. It feels necessary to go back and check, however. And he kinda wants to try the mask on at the moment. So Danny urges his friend to get in his car quickly before driving to Jorel’s place.

They find the mask hanging on the cat hanger, like always. Jorel only takes it off for cleaning sometimes, or so he said. Upon seeing the metal surface of the mask is still shiny and smooth, he takes it as Jorel was not saying that to get Danny off his back on cleaning the thing.

Jorel gets the mask off the hanger, holding it with both hands. Danny doesn’t really know what to say, to be honest. He can’t just blurt it out about his friend should put in on to see how he looks. He will most likely sound like his mother when she wanted him to try on those suits she bought for him in high school.

“Alright, let’s see what is the big deal about this shit.” Jorel mutters, carefully undoing the straps of the mask.

Danny thinks he can wait a bit before trying his on. He shouldn’t be nervous. It’s just a mask. Metal and harmless. Well, it does look like it could be used to beat someone at least to the point of bleeding, but he doubts he would be using it to do that.

“Huh? This fits like, perfectly.” Jorel says loudly in front of his mirror. “It’s like, someone had gotten their hands on a mould of my fucking face then decided to make this.”

“It looks nice on you.” He comments.

“Shut up, smart-ass. I thought you were dying to try yours on.”

“Alright. Move over so I can use the mirror.”

His mask fits just nice on his face. Which is weird, as Jorel has said. He doesn’t know if he should feel concerned that someone might have gotten their hands on their faces’ moulds and then made these damn masks.

It’s cool though, seeing the mask on his face. He understands his mother a little bit now. The golden bronze colour of the mask clashes with his green hoodie a little but he couldn’t care less about it.

Off a side, Jorel is muttering to himself about stalkers and crazy mask-makers. Danny has been worrying about his friend’s mental health for a while now (like, ever since they started to actually hang out after buying the masks) and this is definitely not good.

Jorel's not mental, that's a fact. He's just a little depressed, like everyone ever, and many things can stress him out. For instance, why the mask fits is stressing him out.

“Does yours fit too?” Finally, one non-mumbling line. Perhaps there is still some hope for his emo vegan friend.

“Yeah. Looks cool, huh?”

“How are you so fucking calm, Daniel? This shit is freaky.”

“Dude, I think I’ve panicked pass the point of panicking now. I’m just eternally calm since like, forever.” He laughs the question off, adjusting the mask. This doesn’t mean his words are not true though. Danny thinks he officially lost his ability to panic sometime during 10th grade.

Jorel groans, taking off his mask and falling back onto his sofa, which resulting in startling his sleeping cat in the corner of it. Ghost glares at his owner for three solid seconds before closing his eyes, deciding not to deal with their bullshit.

Danny flops down next to him, letting his mask stay on his face. Jorel can freak out however and how much he wants, he still thinks these masks look cool as fuck.

“You okay, man?” Still, he can be concerned about Jorel while having a good time messing around.

“Not really.” His friend lets out a small chuckle. “I mean, what the hell are we doing? Playing dress-up with masks we bought from a shady shop after being stalked by some dude with big curly hair? Fuck this.”

When he puts it like that, well Danny can’t really deny how stupid that sounds. At least he’s finding some fun in this whole situation, unlike Jorel. He takes his mask off, fidgeting a little before slapping the other’s arm slightly.

“Still wanna go check the shop with me? Or do you want to stay home and brood over this?”

Jorel gives him a glare but then sighs, sounding defeated. He knows using his sad puppy voice is a bit too much, but letting his friend be alone and sulk in a corner with his grumpy cat wouldn’t do them any good either.

And his curiosity is telling him that this might be exciting and might connect to some bigger things. Who knows? Maybe there is a purpose for finding these masks after all.

* * *

Matt is having a fucking wonderful time. And it’s not even sarcasm this time.

He doesn’t have stalk those men anymore and he has just received a check from the people he has been working for. Working as a bouncer for a club can only get him enough for living so he’s really feeling ecstatic about this.

He isn’t done with the whole business though. Stalking to get those guys to find their masks is just the first phase of everything. The people he’s working for said that they would eventually find each other, but if something gets in their ways now, Matt will have to intervene a little.

That is the second phase. The phase where he probably has to work the least. He still hasn’t known what the third phase would be since the people he works for only send info about one phase at one time.

Matt thinks about the mask in the glass case a lot lately. He never got the chance to wear it. They said that mask was not his business, in some ways, and he knows he’s not supposed to even touch it, much less try it on.

He recalls wearing the other masks. They didn’t fit his face, obviously. They were not made for him. It always felt a bit uncomfortable wearing them, and it wasn’t only for the fact that they didn’t fit.

They felt wrong. He felt wrong. Like he was stealing someone’s identity, even though it was for just a few minutes for like, five nights.

That half grey half white mask however, it just seems to be calling to him every time he sees it. He thinks it would fit, for some reasons. Or he's just crazy at this point. Matt gently reminds himself that he is not allowed to use that mask to try to get his mind off it.

The man shakes his head and tied his hair back, getting up to be ready for work. He should probably find something to eat before going out.

Somewhere in the galaxy, a few more stars go out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'm now thinking about how all of them will meet each other. And I've got a joke I've been dying to use too.  
> But it's not the time yet.
> 
> I hope to receive feedback and kudos, obviously. Thanks so much for reading, again ❤❤❤


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George is still working on why the mask feels wrong.  
> Danny and Jorel are going back to the shop one more time.  
> Something happens.  
> Jordon and his night off work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've left this half-written for a while and I'm happy to announce that I've finished with most of my dumb deadlines! Yesssss! I'm now working on three fics at once, and even though one is about to finish, it's most likely that I have to take writing a bit slower.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

Having found the mask changes a few things. First, his wife thinks the mask is an "unnecessary item" to have. Second, all the old folklore and myth books are back on the shelves. And last, he has brought the mask to an artist of some kind to scan the thing.

It feels wrong. Like the mask is supposed to look a bit different. He has been putting in some colour schemes to see if any of them can make it feel right. He puts his mind to learning how colours work and which should go together. Maybe this kind of knowledge will come in handy one day.

Or maybe it's because of the butterflies? The black 3s on both sides of the mask? It could have something to do with the colour schemes or the pattern designs.

He's messing around witht the colours first. It's easier and the patterns on the mask look pretty dope to him already anyway.

George groans loudly, glaring at the green and yellow mask. Why the fuck did he decide to put these two with each other? Either he was being stupid or he was desperate. He isn’t sure which one is better.

“I hope this has something to do with your work, honey. I hate seeing you all burnt-out like this.” Asia’s voice startles him. George turns around to give her a soft kiss.

“Just some idea for an alternative cover.” He lies smoothly. “It’s my brain that is fried though.”

“Hmm, then maybe you should come down for lunch. Might fix your brain a little.”

He chuckles, taking her hand and standing up. The mask can wait for a few hours, he supposes.

“I’m thinking we should have a picnic soon. It’s been way too long since we last did something together as a family.” Asia says as they settle down around the table.

“I’m pretty sure we all had a movie night like, two days ago.” He points out, stabbing his fork into a meatball.

“Not like that.” She rolls her eyes. “Something as a family under the sunlight with outdoor air and less technology.”

“Right,” He sighs. “That does sound good, actually. So, when do you think we should go?”

“Sometime next week, hopefully. Most likely at the weekend so Ava can go. And don’t you dare bring work with you to the picnic.”

He salutes her, much to her annoyed expression on her face. He goes back to his food, mind wandering to all the combinations of colours he hasn’t used yet.

* * *

Jorel and Danny arrive at the same spot where they parked Danny’s car before at sometime after 6. The sky hasn’t turned too dark yet and there’s a little breeze that howls softly like a gentle cry in the dark.

Jorel slams the car door shut and shuffles his feet, kicking a stick on the ground as he glares at the sigh with distaste. It still flickers, looking all sad and creepy at the same time.

Danny takes the lead to the shop this time, head turning left and right as if to examine the place. He pushes the door in and Jorel follows suits, not missing the door closing.

The shop has the same slight eeriness, same cool atmosphere and same dusty smell in the air, just like the last time they were here. The light is still dim, making everything look hazier and less real to his eyes.

The girl is sitting in her chair, hands typing on her phone like it’s the same day and not weeks later. It’s like the perception of time doesn’t apply to this place.

“Hi.” The cashier says, not looking up from her phone. “All the masks are gone, except that one. Why are you here, Matthew?”

Silence falls upon them. Part of Jorel wants to ask who Matthew is, part of him thinks that would be a bad idea. Danny clears his throat.

“Uh, I’m not Matthew.”

Apparently, that's what it takes for her to look up in confusion. Her brows furrow and the phone in her hands is placed on the counter. None of them says anything and all he can hear is the sound of the wind chimes ringing through the air.

“Why are you back here?” She asks, breaking the stillness. The question sounds so serious that Jorel starts to wonder if they have done any bad thing.

“We, uh, I got curious. About the masks, you know?” Danny answers honestly while Jorel thinks how bad the idea of coming back to the shop is. This place just gives him the feeling of being unwelcome.

“You’re curious? About the masks?” Danny nods. “Well, alright, I’ll humour you. Got any specific questions?”

His friend looks back at him hesitantly. Jorel narrows his eyes back, as if to say “this is your idea, you dumbass”. He suggested going back here, he deals with it. Jorel's just here for emotional support.

“Uh, you said the masks were all gone?”

“Yes. Except for the one in the box, I take it you know which one?”

“Yeah, we do. Do you remember who bought them?” She raises an eyebrow before Danny continues. “You know, at least how they looked like?”

The girl sighs. She uses a hand to rub her face, looking defeated and completely done with their shit.

"The first mask, or like a bandana, tablecloth, whatever, bought by some chubby dude with a very round face. You know yours. The fourth, the black mask, bought by some guy with long hair, had a dog too probably, I could hear it barked from outside. And the last, the butterflies mask, huge guy, very buffed. That's all."

Danny takes some moments to process the information he has just been given. While Jorel is being very confused.

_How the fuck can she remember the people coming here and buying things?_

And before Danny could continue to interrogate her, Jorel starts.

“Who’s Matthew?”

Alright, that was not what he wanted to ask. However, he has fired the question and there’s no taking it back. Maybe he has left his mouth filter at home today and now it will begin to pour out unexpected questions at everyone.

“Matthew is… none of your business. No need to know who he is.” She taps her fingers on the counter, eyes staring dead at them. He knows better than pressing.

“Sure, yeah, okay.” He draws out. “So uh, I’m Jorel. What can I call you?”

“Hmm. Dahlia.”

“Like, the flower?”

Meanwhile, Danny has taken some time to look around a bit, successful in avoiding the awkward moment. Jorel, however, is aware that his friend still listens to the conversion.

They have gone through like, three moments of uncomfortable silence with occasional questions and answers before Danny comes back with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Uh, have you sold anything else lately?”

“Nope. But why is that question?”

"Just curious. I didn't pay much attention to anything the last time I was here. But you know, things in here are either broken or covered in dust, or both, no offence to your shop."

“None taken.” She answers easily.

“So, just the masks?”

“Yes.”

He looks around uncomfortably. The trees can be seen all flapping around though the window from the wall behind the girl. Must be some strong wind then. The air suddenly feels colder and colder with every second. His nose itches with the smell of dust and dirt.

Jorel can not stand the atmosphere anymore. Shiver is running down his spine as his brain screams _“DANGER!!!”_ at him. He doesn’t even know what he has to be afraid of but every sense of his is trying to tell him to get out of here.

So he does what he thinks is the most sensible thing to do in this situation. He grabs Danny’s arm and pulls his friend to the door.

"Thanks for your time. I think we have to go now. It's late and you know, we have some stuff to do."

The last thing he hears before dragging Danny, who is protesting ( _does he even have any self-preservation instinct?_ ), out into the cool wind of the forest.

“What the hell, J?”

“We need to go home.” He says shortly, still dragging the blond back to his car. “Something is wrong.”

The wind blows heavier and some trees look like they have been pushed back with a strong invisible force. A bird flies past them, crying and squawking in panic. A blanket of shadow seems to have fallen on everything.

Danny, seeing the state of the weather, has come back to his senses and quickly unlock his car. Jorel gets in immediately, feeling relief blooming in his chest. If Danny still insisted on staying, he might have to knock the dumbass out and drag him to the car.

The blond idiot follows, which is good, getting in the driver’s side of the car and starts the engine. At that exact moment, one huge branch falls down in front of the car, just a few feet away. Two black birds flap their wings and dash into the deep forest.

He swallows, trying to press down his panic. Danny is now looking left and right to get them out of the forest. The car roars, at least he thinks so. It's hard to hear anything with the wind screaming at them like that.

The sigh flickers a few more time then starts to get brighter and brighter until the point he has to look away. It might be his eyes, it might be his head creating hallucinations, it might be real but right before he looks away, the shop flickers, glitches like those old games with too many errors.

He doesn’t know what happens next as Danny drives the car back to the main trail and the shop disappears from his sight along with the blinding light. They manage to get to the city road and the sky begins to rain.

* * *

Jordon thinks Dylan had looked familiar. Not the bullshit kind of “another life” the guy was talking about, but the more realistic one. Like, he has seen him from somewhere. He kept it for himself the day they first met though.

So he looks the name up just to realize he didn’t get a last name. Only Dylan. Great. But he swears that dude was not that unfamiliar to him. Maybe they have seen each other somewhere?

He takes the bandana down from the hanger. It’s still a little damp from having been washed yesterday. He doesn’t even wash it much, not wanting to ruin the bandana because of excessive cleaning.

A loud noise startles him. Apparently, the storm outside has gotten bad and the tree branches are banging on his apartment’s windows repeatedly. Lightning flashes, brightens the whole block and a low growl of thunder comes after it.

Jordon peers out of the window. Big droplets of rain are hitting the glass of the window and the leaves of the trees in front of the building, looking like they are trying to drown everything and anything in their way.

A car drives pass on the empty street. It would be mad to be out in this weather, car or not. He thinks a few branches have been broken in the storm and have fallen down onto the street and the sidewalks. It’s dangerous to be out in such a big storm.

He pulls the curtains shut, half-heartedly hoping whoever that is outside would be home safe and sound. He still has to work at the strip club at 10 tonight, which has got him conflicting between calling in sick so he wouldn't have to go out in this horrible weather and finding a way to go to work anyway.

Not that it should matter much. He doubts the club would have very many people coming in tonight, even if those at the clubs are desirable as fuck. He’s really considering taking the night off.

Jordon makes a call to the manager. The guy made it clear that if they wanted to take a night off, they would have to call him and state their reasoning. Sure, whatever, as long as he can stay at home.

Turns out, he doesn't need to. There is a text (probably to all of those who work there too) saying a tree has uprooted and is now lying half on top on the stairs to the club's door, with most of its branches covering the entrance.

So, reasonably, no one is working tonight. They won’t receive any money, but at least they wouldn’t have to go out into the storm.

Jordon stares at the text, amazed and confused at the same time.

 _Alright…_ He chuckles to himself. _Guess the universe thinks like me too._

He hangs the bandana back up and throws himself on the couch in his tiny living room. He can finally watch some shows he has been putting on his list now.

“Wait…,” Jordon gets up and goes to the kitchen to grab some snacks. “Now we can watch.”

You know how some new shows have only like, ten episodes each season. He's confident that he can go through at least two or three shows before he passes out.

He stops in the middle of looking through all the show to stare at a particular one. Just one. He doesn't even notice the name of the show, only the three, or rather, one character on the thumbnail.

“Wait a fucking minute…” He says to himself. “Is that…?”

Dylan’s face is staring back at him, eyes dark and lips forming a smirk. He looks like a typical villain from a cheesy action show. Or something.

_So that’s why he’d looked familiar…_

Jordon considers his options. He can sit still and watch the show to see if Dylan is any good with the whole acting business (and to see how the show plays out of sheer curiosity). Or he can call Dylan to mess with the dude a little bit.

But before he could make up his mind, the light goes out unexpectedly. Power cut. Thunder rumbles outside as the raindrops hit the windows even harder. Other than that, everything in the apartment is heavy with silence.

"Shit," Jordon mutters. Of course the power went out at that exact fucking moment. He turns on the light of his phone and starts looking around for a candle or something. He remembers having a candle in the house just in case.

It's a huge candle, maybe it can last as long as a few hours. The flame flickers to life after a few seconds and the room is now dimly lit in orange colour. He turns off the phone's light.

There is nothing for him to do now. He has gotten to dependant on all the cool technology for entertainment that now when the power is out, he can’t find anything to pass the time.

The service is still pretty strong though. He has an option of calling Dylan left since the first one is out of the question. It's better than nothing, he tells himself. So he presses the call button as lightning flashes across the sky.

The other picks up after four rings.

“Hey uh, hi.” He sounds hesitant, nervous, even. He wonders if it’s normal for actors to feel nervous talking to a regular dude like him.

“It’s Jordon. Thought I should call.” He says easily.

“Uh, just, I’m not sure this is a good time. The power’s gone out and my dog is scared of thunder.”

“Wait, wait, your power is out too? Must not be too far from my place.”

"Uh, yeah, But why are you calling? During a blackout, nonetheless"

“Haha,” He gives an awkward laugh. “Here’s the thing. I found your show on Netflix.”

There is now silence on the other side. Jordon wonders if the guy has hung up yet.

“I’m sorry?” Oh, there he is.

“Your show, on Netflix? Ahh, what’s the name? I can’t remember.” He admits.

“No, I know which one. I only have one on Netflix.”

“Yes, looking like a villain and all, right?” Aaaand the silence is back.

"No! I'm not a villain in the show." Well then, he did look like one in the thumbnail. "Whatever. Since you've called, do you want to meet up to talk or something? I have a few questions."

“Is this a promise of interrogation or is this a trick for me to go on a date with you?”

He can hear Dylan sighs on the other side. He knows the guy doesn’t enjoy his weird jokes but it’s not like Jordon cares that much. Besides, it’s fun as hell seeing him all done and tired with the jokes while still trying to be civil.

“It’s not an interrogation nor a date. Just, do you want to meet up?”

“Yeah, sure, dude. When and where?”

“You work at night, yeah?” He nods even though he knows Dylan can not see it. “I’m thinking of a cafe, and maybe hmm, Saturday morning? I don’t have to film that day. I’m sending you the location later.”

“Great. It’s a date then. See you on Saturday.” And he hangs up before Dylan could protest.

He sees three new texts, from Dylan. The first one says _“What the hell dude”_ , the second one just says _“Whtaever”_ ( _urgh, typo!_ ) and the last is the location of the cafe.

He knows of this cafe, it’s not too far from his apartment too. But it’s famous for being rather expensive, at least to people like him. Dylan, who is an actor, probably can afford to pay for his daily coffee here.

It’s just one morning, then he can go back to his shitty cafe later. And he’s really curious about how this will play out. The whole situation is way to fun to be ignored.

The flame flickers again as some wind manages to sneak into the small apartment. Jordon gets up to make some hot chocolate for the night before turning in, it’s only reasonable.

He goes to bed half an hour later, satisfied with his hot chocolate and his conversation with Dylan. The candle is snuffed out, leaving the place in almost total darkness, saved for the occasional flashes of lightning.

From the outside, the wind still howls as a few more stars go out and the sky is crying a mournful ballad in the dark of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, what do you guys think? Hoping for some feedback, which I appreciate a lot, and thanks all for reading this fic ❤❤❤


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